


The Case of the Not So Well Dressed Detective

by the_welsh_woman



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_welsh_woman/pseuds/the_welsh_woman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case beckons John and Sherlock to the Welsh wilderness. John is astounded by how woefully unprepared Sherlock is to withstand environments outside of his London bubble and takes it upon himself to help remedy the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Not So Well Dressed Detective

Sherlock pulled down the corners of his mouth.

"And you can get by with just that?" he asked.

John crouched by the modest pile of clothing and toiletries he had sorted on the floor of the sitting room. He rested his elbows on his thighs and loosely laced his fingers between his knees. A fond memory of quite ably surviving in the Army on very little flashed across his mind and made him smile that little secret smile he knew vexed Sherlock. For as much as the world's only consulting detective touted himself as being very extremely talented in reading a person down to their throbbing core with a mere glance at the oily residue collecting on the plastic nose-pads of their spectacles, Sherlock couldn't quite find a meaning behind John's delightfully cryptic smile.

He hated it.

"Oh, Sherlock," John sighed, and his gaze travelled over the tops of his companion's fairly inappropriate (for their trip anyway) footwear. "I'm sure I can get along. You, on the other hand..."

John let his statement wander off. He then efficiently began folding his clothing which he neatly packed into his rucksacks.

Sherlock hummed a bit and watched John work.

With a tired groan, John shoved himself to his feet, grabbed the straps of his two bags and hurled them both onto the settee where they landed, bounced and threatened to flop over the edge and onto the floor. When they managed to just cling to the cushions, John grinned and looked at Sherlock.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Sherlock demanded, but without his normally icy, and accusatory tone.

John rubbed the back of his neck, pleased that the question allowed him to freely and openly examine Sherlock. Avoiding Sherlock's gaze, John nibbled the inner side of his bottom lip and reached to take Sherlock's suit jacket lapel between his two fingers. He gave it a contemplative tug, released it and lowered his hand to flick the edge of the jacket aside to expose where Sherlock's dark shirt was tucked and belted into his thin trousers.

"Several things, Sherlock," said John as a kind smile tugged his lips apart. "If you don't mind me saying."

"Go on," Sherlock encouraged, curious to see how John would pick him apart; how John would deduce him.

The thought of John doing _that_ with him, deducing him, thrilled Sherlock more than he allowed himself to admit.

"Well, firstly, we are going to be travelling through an area that's entirely different from London. It's more rugged and brutal and you won't last more than one half hour with what you are wearing at the present moment. I've seen what's in your wardrobe and I can't remember seeing anything close to a warm jumper or sturdy shoes. I don't know if you even own a cap. And while your Belstaff coat is gorgeous and dramatic, it isn't, ehm... going to keep you that warm."

John looked down at Sherlock's shoes.

"If you don't freeze, Sherlock, you'll twist your ankle. No support. And there's no way you'll be able to keep heat in your feet."

John sighed and indulgently let his eyes trail slowly up the length of Sherlock's trim form. How could someone so intelligent and so clever and so beautiful could be so ignorant? Sherlock was a mystery to John Watson.

When his eyes finally met Sherlock's, Sherlock grinned suddenly, charmingly, blindingly and it startled a laugh out of John.

 

"Sherlock," he said warmly still chuckling a little.

"Very good, John. Very good," he said bending and kissing John quickly.

"I suppose you think that I've earned that, yeah?"

John raised his brows inquisitively and watched Sherlock's smirk grow.

"There are lots of things that you've just earned, John," Sherlock assured him slyly and then smoothly eased into John's personal space.

"Oh?" John breathed feeling shaky, his eyes pinned to Sherlock's lush mouth.

"Oh, yes John. But, first, shopping."

Stealing a second kiss, Sherlock swept away from John, snatched his scarf from the back of the chair and was out of the flat and down the stairs before John's mind could switch from the smoky promise of sex with Sherlock to register that "Sherlock" and "willingly shopping" had been introduced into the same conversation.

"Sherlock! Wait!" he cried grabbing his own coat.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that one, Sherlock," John muttered closing the door behind him and racing after his lover. 


End file.
